


going around in circles

by damipussycomplex



Series: love can be deceiving [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alley Sex, Crying, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Shower Sex, Trans Damian Wayne, Trans Male Character, Underage Rape/Non-con, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, but it's all about him getting nonconned so what else did you expect lmao, damian cries quite a bit in this series, onesided Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damipussycomplex/pseuds/damipussycomplex
Summary: Damian manages to get through eleven nightmare-filled days, through eleven sleepless nights without having to see or speak to Grayson. And then he bumps into him just before the end of the night's patrol. He should'veknownthat his father wouldn't listen to him when he asked for some space — that he would only do the exactoppositeof what Damian asked and try and push the two of them together for the sake of his damned mission.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: love can be deceiving [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864717
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	going around in circles

**Author's Note:**

> hii, i'm back.... lmao idk if anyone even remembers this series anymore but i got busy with other events and fic exchanges, then i just lost motivation and went on a break, but i'm here now with a longer fic than the last two to hopefully make up for it :)

Damian hasn’t spoken to Grayson for eleven days. Hasn’t answered any of his calls or text messages, nor has he listened to any of the forty three voicemails left in his inbox. He’s honestly surprised that Grayson hasn’t hunted him down in the manor or ambushed him on patrol, demanding to know why Damian has been ignoring him. He must be busy – not that Damian is complaining.

And Drake has been strangely nice to him. Damian doesn’t think they’ve fought or even snapped at each other _once_ in all the time that he’s been here since escaping from Grayson’s apartment after having to spend a week there. If it weren’t for the fact that Drake has been helping him with procuring the appropriate supplies and making up excuses for Damian's continued absence or hiding whenever Grayson had come to the manor, Damian would find his behaviour _extremely_ suspicious.

Drake's odd behaviour aside, even Damian's father has been acting oddly. Damian will be in the middle of eating or training, or he'll be curled into Titus by the fire after having yet _another_ shower so that he doesn't feel dirty anymore, and he'll feel eyes burning into him. And it's always Father, just _staring_ at him with a blank face, but whenever Damian has tried to ask about it, Father has just avoided answering him by either swiftly changing the topic of conversation or just walking away.

He's also been more lenient on patrol, not largely so, but enough that Damian can tell there's a difference between how he has been recently and how he usually is. On the odd occasion where Damian gets lost in his head after suddenly remembering Grayson and ends up beating someone into the ground, Father will give him maybe a few more seconds than usual of breaking bones and drawing blood over his bruised knuckles before pulling him back and making him stop.

It's almost as though Father is trying to soften him up to prepare him for something to come, but Damian will not — _cannot_ — let his guard down again. The consequences would only be disastrous.

It's as he's pulled aside by his father just after suiting up for the night's patrol and told in Father's usual blundering way that he's been doing well with his duties as Robin that the feeling things are about to go downhill strikes him again. The praise washes over Damian and covers him like a warm blanket in the same way it always has, but it's soon overshadowed by an uneasy sense of foreboding, making Damian feel cold and empty.

But he eventually pushes it away with a brief shiver and works his way through patrol, trying his best not to freeze and then lash out with his sword every time he feels someone watching him, or whenever he thinks he sees a streak of blue across the street or on the rooftop opposite him as the sun starts its ascent into the sky again.

Red Robin has teamed up with him for most of the night, but Damian is alone as he spots a man being cornered by four measly thugs, and the sun makes their shadows loom behind them, distorted as they make idle threats with their guns and creep closer to the lone man, shoving him against a wall whilst demanding he give them his wallet and any other valuables he has on his person.

Damian leaps down to complete his final good deed of the night, landing on the shoulders of one thug and kicking him forward into a second, both of their guns dropping onto the floor. Damian lands lightly on his feet without a sound and spins to kick the guns further away, sending them scattering into the darkness as he turns to address the other two thugs.

Damian flips out of the way of a punch and lands next to the would-be victim, gesturing for him to leave, and he doesn't hesitate before running for his life. He easily dodges a badly aimed shot and swipes his foot out to knock the gun out of the thug's hand, catching it and quickly clicking the safety off before bashing it into the thug's head, then knocks out the final thug with one punch.

Crouching low, Damian tightens zip ties around the unconscious thugs’ wrists and leaves their discarded guns in a hidden nook for the GCPD to find after contacting them, then stands straight with his hands on his hips to survey them. After a quick inspection, he knows that they were up to nothing other than trying to rob a man's wallet, and if that were it, Damian would be contacting his father and preparing to make his way back home.

But Damian can still sense the presence of someone else with him, even though he swears he's taken down all of the thugs, and the man they'd targeted has managed to escape too. Tense, shoulders hunched up to his ears, Damian swings around with his sword, sure he's levelling it at the mystery person's throat, but instead, he hears a strange clanging sound as the blade is caught before it can cause any damage. Between two escrima sticks.

_Grayson._

Damian freezes, breath hitching in his throat as he stares with wide eyes at the sight of his blade slowly being lowered until it's released at a safe distance away from Grayson's body, gaze catching on the deep blue of his suit, running from Grayson's fingertips up his strong arms and blooming out over his chest, almost the same shade as his eyes. Damian has yet to summon the courage to actually _meet_ said eyes, even though they're concealed behind the milky white lenses of Grayson's domino mask.

"Hey there, Robin," Grayson says, sounding pleased enough to see him. Damian can't hear any anger or annoyance in his voice at being ignored for the past eleven days, but that doesn't necessarily mean Grayson doesn't feel that way.

Over the years they've known each other, Damian has come to learn that although Grayson might put on a show of being the most in tune with his emotions out of all of them, of being very _open_ about how he feels, that's all it is — a show. After all, Grayson was raised by his father too, trained to hide his emotions under the surface.

"Nightwing," Damian cautiously greets him as he takes a tiny step back, making sure his voice doesn't waver. "I wasn't aware you would be joining us on patrol tonight," he says, finally looking up at Grayson's face as his breath catches in his throat. Grayson's smiling at him, all soft and warm like nothing has even changed between them at all, and it makes Damian's hands itch for a weapon.

"Well, neither was I until quite recently," Grayson begins to explain. "I only found out yesterday myself, and I would have told you but I didn't think you'd end up seeing the message because you haven't read any of the _others_ that I sent you, and you weren't answering your phone either." Now there's an odd edge to his voice, like he's trying to seem calm, but Damian can still hear the confusion coming through.

Damian clears his throat and looks away again, past Grayson's shoulder to the entrance of the alleyway, calculating how long it will take him to get there and _away_ from Grayson. "I was – I just needed a break," Damian mumbles, deciding to tell him a half-truth. "After what you – I just needed some time to myself, to rest. It was a bit much for me." It makes him sick to even think about it, about how his misplaced trust in Grayson was only taken advantage of for Grayson's own selfish desires.

"Oh." Grayson looks guilty, as he should, and like a child, Damian almost bursts into tears right there in front of him, but then Grayson's expression morphs into something familiar as he lowers the lenses on his domino mask, revealing bright eyes glinting at Damian. "You should have told me, sweetheart," he murmurs, and Damian freezes as he moves closer. "You know how much I care about you, don't you?" 

Damian's almost certain Grayson doesn't mean to make him feel guilty and yet his cheeks are burning with shame as he nods reluctantly, staring at the laces on his boots. He doesn't believe himself, nor does he think Grayson is convinced by his act. Grayson's feet don't make a sound as he gets close enough to lift a hand and cup Damian's cheek, almost making him flinch back, but Damian stops himself in time. He will _not_ allow Grayson to see his fear. He can't afford to.

"I was worried you were hurt or angry or had gone missing or something, had to hunt Red down and ask if you were okay and then I realised that you just weren't responding," Grayson admits, eyes shimmering with concern. Damian _hates_ it. He hates that he can no longer tell if it's real or not. He hates that in reality, he has _never_ known whether anything he initially thought to be true is real or not.

Grayson has completely and utterly _ruined_ him. 

"I love you _so much_ , you know that, right?" Grayson says, taking Damian into his arms and pressing a kiss into his hair. Damian feels sick. "It's okay if you want to take a break sometimes but you need to let me know, alright? I know I can be a little... _intense_ at times, but you just have to tell me when to stop and I will, yeah?" Grayson looks a little sheepish as he says this, but Damian takes no notice of this — he is more focused on Grayson's words.

_You just have to tell me when to stop and I will._ He makes it all sound so _easy._

The thing is, Damian _did_ tell him to stop though. Damian _told_ Grayson to stop numerous times and he _didn't_. How is Damian supposed to believe him now, after all that has been done to him?

He bites down on his bottom lip to stop it from wobbling, accidentally sinking his teeth hard enough into the flesh to draw blood. "I apologise for not communicating properly," Damian chokes out, the words barely making their way out of his mouth.

Grayson moves back just enough that he can see Damian's face, thumb wiping away the blood trickling from his bottom lip and lingering there before tugging it down a little. "It's alright." His mouth twitches into a smirk, a nauseatingly familiar look on Grayson's face, and Damian can practically feel the blood draining from his face. "Now that I know, I'll go easy on you, but we've got a lot of time to make up for."

And then Damian's being boxed in against the dirty wall, one of Grayson's hands on his face as the other slips underneath Damian's cape and settles on his lower back, just above his utility belt. "Nightwing, wait," Damian says, his heart beating at a ridiculously fast pace.

But Grayson ducks to lick the smeared blood off Damian's chin and presses up against him as he nudges Damian's head up with his finger, and Damian can't feel an inch of his body that isn't being touched by Grayson. The memory of Grayson's chest draped over his back as he'd fucked his leaking come back into Damian's cunt flashes through his mind, only briefly, but it's enough to make Damian panic, his breathing picking up.

“We’re in public,” he tries, desperate, but Grayson just cradles Damian’s face in one hand and kisses him hard, mouth hot and hungry against his as Grayson curls his arm fully around Damian’s waist to lift him up a little higher, one knee pressed between his parted thighs.

Damian kisses him back almost instinctively, hating himself for it as he grips onto Grayson’s shoulders, only faltering when Grayson’s mouth peels away from his to press to his neck, fingers fiddling with Damian’s utility belt. " _Wait,"_ he hisses, furious at his own helplessness, at how easily he ended up giving in to Grayson's advances after managing to stay away from him for so long.

Grayson hushes him as his teeth graze over Damian's rabbiting pulse, tugging at the collar of Damian's tunic after pulling his cape out of the way to suck marks into his throat. Damian squirms, barely managing to bite back the pathetic whimper that threatens to escape from his mouth when he feels Grayson's lips against the sensitive patch of skin just beneath his ear. And then he hears the quiet click of his utility belt being unfastened and renews his struggles, actively fighting against Grayson when his hands slip lower and grabbing his wrist to stop him.

Grayson pauses for a moment to look Damian in the eye, and then lifts his hand to thumb at the side of Damian's domino mask, smiling softly when his eyes are revealed and Damian blinks up at him in confusion. "Haven't seen those pretty eyes in a while. Missed them," Grayson murmurs lowly into his ear. Both the compliment and the confession make Damian’s skin crawl.

Damian is left clenching his jaw as Grayson leans in and gently brushes his lips over his eyelids. But then his smile widens into a filthy grin, and Damian chokes on his own breath as he releases Grayson's wrist in shock when a hand is shoved down the back of his leggings, palming his ass roughly enough that Damian is actually lifted up onto the tips of his toes.

" _Grayson,"_ he whispers harshly enough that Grayson meets his eyes with a sharp smirk plastered on his face, and the sight of it makes Damian shudder with revulsion as his hands fall to Grayson's biceps. Grayson clearly doesn't notice, because he just keeps going, dragging his hands over Damian's hips and around to his front, where he doesn't even hesitate before moving his fingers inwards to press between Damian's thighs, making his breath hitch on a low whine.

"Fuck," Grayson curses under his breath, hair falling into his face as he looks downwards and spreads his fingers so that he can comfortably cup Damian's cunt, which is _ridiculously_ wet for just a little bit of kissing. "Missed this too," he whispers, nosing at Damian's jaw. "God, I missed this, but it seems like _you_ missed it a hell of a lot more than I did."

Damian’s hips inadvertently jerk forward at that, right into his ready hand, and Grayson swears again as he slips his fingers over Damian’s folds to gather slick on them before sliding two inside him at once with an _obscenely_ filthy noise. Damian whimpers again and shakes his head, one hand lowering from Grayson’s arm to circle tightly around his wrist, a weak attempt to stop him before this gets any further.

But Grayson just licks at one of the marks he’s left on Damian’s neck and then looks up at him with dark eyes, one eyebrow raised even as his fingers speed up. “No. _Please,”_ Damian begs this time, and he can feel his eyes stinging with tears when Grayson’s face melts into a frown.

“You don’t want any prep?” Grayson asks him, clearly having misunderstood, and Damian is about to explain himself but instead ends up letting out a little yelp as Grayson’s thigh presses up between his legs, hands flying up to seize hold of Grayson’s arms as he’s lifted again slightly so that they’re properly face to face, his booted toes barely touching the ground.

The thought occurs to him to _physically_ fight back, to try and break him as he has broken Damian, but it’s gone as quickly as it came to his mind. As much as he hates Grayson for doing this to him, Damian still _loves_ him too, and he just can’t bring himself to hurt Grayson, even if it’s to stop himself from getting hurt.

His gloved fingers dig into the material clinging to Grayson’s shoulders and Damian bites back a helpless whine as his chin is gripped to hold his face still so that Grayson can plant another quick kiss on his mouth before leaning back again, a sly grin on his face. “Trust me, baby, I would _love_ to fuck you right here, but I get the feeling you don’t want to be caught with your leggings around your ankles,” Grayson whispers to him, eyes glimmering in the dark of the night.

“And I don’t want to get distracted from how pretty you’ll look when you come by how good you feel around me,” Grayson continues as his fingers move faster and he leans in to bite at Damian’s neck, hard enough that Damian is almost _certain_ it draws blood.

Damian turns his face away, unable to look at Grayson any longer, and he isn’t sure if he’s imagining things or not, but before he closes his eyes, he swears that he sees a flash of red in his periphery, perhaps on a nearby rooftop, but can’t find the energy within himself to focus on it. His cheeks and eyelashes feel damp, and it isn’t until Damian can taste salt that he realises tears are dripping down his face.

Damian’s lips part on a wet gasp as a third finger easily slides inside him, and Grayson takes the opportunity to kiss him again, slipping his tongue into Damian’s mouth as he spreads his fingers and uses his thumb to rub tight circles over Damian’s clit. He sobs into Grayson’s mouth, squeezing his eyes shut as Grayson parts from his lips to pepper kisses all over his cheeks, licking Damian’s tears away as he murmurs, “So gorgeous, baby, come on, let go for me, yeah? It’ll feel so good, I swear.”

Damian barely manages to summon the energy to move his head to the side when Grayson tries to kiss him again, but Grayson’s fingers curl inside him as his thumb glides over Damian’s swollen clit, and Damian can’t help the way his body curves forward and his thighs tense up when his chin is held in place again. Grayson seals his mouth over Damian’s once more, and with a final thrust of his fingers, Damian hiccups out a sob, muffled by Grayson’s lips, as his hips jerk forward and he gushes all over Grayson’s hand.

Grayson keeps moving his fingers until Damian lets out an overstimulated whine, and then slowly eases them out of him as he murmurs meaningless words of praise against Damian’s heated, sweaty skin. Damian stares with blurred vision as Grayson sucks his wet fingers, the ones that had previously been _inside_ Damian, into his mouth with a low groan. His thighs are still shaking when Grayson leans forward and tucks his nose into Damian’s neck, mouth pressed to his racing pulse as he breathes heavily against Damian’s skin.

Damian can still feel how tense he is, how Grayson is vibrating enough that the fingers he has curled around Damian’s hip and the thigh nudged between his legs are trembling slightly as he sighs, breath hot and damp where it washes over Damian, making him freeze as he prepares for something _worse_ , for a repeat of what happened the last time they saw each other. And then Grayson is moving back with a little smile on his face, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he lowers Damian back down to the ground and studies his flushed face.

Damian can’t control the way even _more_ heat rises to his cheeks upon the recognition of that facial expression as the one Grayson wears when he’s barely able to restrain himself from just _attacking_ Damian. Grayson’s face softens at that and he cups Damian’s face to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, one that Damian barely manages to avoid flinching away from. “Don’t worry, I won’t be ravishing you in a dark alley,” Grayson says, lips quirking into a grin when he notices the way Damian squirms. “I’ll let you return the favour and take care of me once we’re back home.”

Damian freezes, suddenly unable to move as Grayson rights his clothing and wipes the drying tears off his face with his gloved thumb. He's numb and stiff as Grayson guides him out of the alley and towards where his motorbike is waiting with a hand low on his back, absentmindedly noting that Grayson is rambling about something, but taking no notice of what exactly.

Grayson doesn't contact anyone before straddling the seat and gesturing for Damian to climb on behind him, meaning he must have already gotten permission from Father to bring Damian back to the cave. Knowing that Father just _allowed_ Grayson to come on patrol with them in the first place, even after Damian's conversation with him, and then let Grayson bring him home, it feels like a double betrayal. Like the ground has caved in beneath him, and then a knife sliding smoothly into his back, leaving Damian bloody and broken.

Lost in his own head, Damian doesn't even realise how hard he's been clinging to Grayson for the whole ride back to the manor until there are hands circling around his wrists, trying to gently ease them away, and he lets go like his fingers are on fire, stumbling off Grayson's bike.

Damian freezes when he realises that they're alone again, and wonders if Grayson will carry out his threat of getting Damian to _returning the favour_ , but then he's saved from that line of thought by the low rumble of the Batmobile, swiftly followed by the smooth purr of Drake's motorcycle. That doesn't get rid of any of the tension lining Damian's shoulders, but it does lessen the feeling of nausea swirling low in his gut.

Drake dismounts his bike, and to his credit, even with what Damian can tell is a black eye from a distance, the first thing he notices after going through all of his security protocols is Damian and Grayson standing side by side, all but rushing over to stand between them as Father switches off the engine of the Batmobile.

He stands stiffly through the post-patrol briefing, practically burning a hole into the side of his father's face with the intensity of his stare. Drake must notice, because Damian flinches as he feels a light nudge to his side and looks up to see Drake barely shaking his head, then immediately looks away and down to the floor for the remainder of it, concentrating on not letting his hands shake.

He doesn't notice Father has finished and is now sat down in front of the computer screens until Drake nudges him again, and Damian realises that he can no longer hear his Father's voice. He starts to step forward to demand answers, to ask why Grayson was put on patrol with them, and more specifically with _him_ , even though Damian had asked for the exact opposite of that, but a light touch to his bicep stops him in his tracks, and Damian almost smacks the offending hand away, barely restraining himself.

"Don't," Damian hears Drake murmur, so quietly he's barely even audible, but that's most likely on purpose. "B's distracted and so is _he_ , so get a shower in while you can." Damian knows exactly who Drake is talking about and turns his head slightly to glance over at Grayson, who is fiddling with something on his bike, then turns back and gives Drake the smallest of nods. Drake offers him a half-smile and follows him to the locker room, where they both start to silently strip off their gear and store it away.

It's as Damian is clumsily putting in the combination for his own locker that he hears his name being called and looks at Drake over his shoulder, who looks a little hesitant. "I — are you okay?" He asks, and Damian almost laughs at the question, at how blissfully ignorant Drake is, and gives him a jerky shrug. "Did he... _touch_ you again?" Drake continues, and now he's frowning, like he's angry.

Damian can't quite tell if his anger is because of Damian being assaulted by Grayson or because of his lack of a proper answer and just sighs, leaning his forehead against his locker for a moment before turning to fully face Drake. "What do you _want_ me to say, Drake? Do you want me to lie and tell you that everything is fine? Because it _isn't,_ and your _stupid_ questions aren't helping."

Damian feels irrationally defensive now, probably because he doesn't want to feel so _broken_ anymore, and knows that Drake is currently undeserving of his misdirected anger, but he can't seem to help it.

"Or do you want me to give you every little detail of what he did to me? Would you enjoy hearing about that?" Damian spits, eyes watering again as Drake moves closer and his face softens somehow, even though he's still frowning. "Do you want me to tell you about how he shoved me against a wall and forced himself on me?" He hiccups out, voice betraying him as it wobbles and then cracks as a tear slips down his cheek, and he furiously swipes it away.

"Damian, _no_ ," Drake interrupts him as he's about to continue his tearful rant and Damian falters, trembling hands curling into fists. "I'm just worried for you. You're not alone, I promise," Drake vows, and he wonders how that claim can be made when Damian has lost the person he trusted most. Drake must see the disbelief on his face because he shakes his head again and steps closer, stopping when he sees Damian start to shake again.

"Look, I'm — I'll talk to you about this later because they're going to be coming soon and we both need to shower. And you probably need some rest," Drake finishes, eyes falling to Damian's shaking legs, barely keeping him upright. Even in his undersuit, it makes Damian feel naked, disturbingly so, and he nods quickly at Drake and follows him to the showers, where they separate and go into different cubicles.

Damian catches sight of himself in a mirror just before he climbs into the shower and looks away almost immediately, hating how weak he looks as he forces himself to actually move and pull the shower curtain closed after him, tremors still running through his body. He reaches for the soap with a shaking hand, concentrating with everything he has to make sure that he doesn't drop it as he ducks his head under the hot stream of water pouring out from the showerhead and lets it trickle down his neck.

Damian turns his back to the curtain and starts to scrub himself clean with shaking hands until his skin is flushed pink and raw, until he’s scrubbed away the feeling of Grayson’s hands all over him, and is _clean_. He doesn’t even realise he’s scratching at the bruise on his hip from Grayson’s fingers and the marks left on his neck like he’s trying to peel them off until it starts to sting and he looks down to see faint red lines on his skin, the soap almost slipping out of his hands.

Damian is in the middle of washing his hair when he hears the sound of the shower curtain rustling and freezes, blinking hard when shampoo threatens to drip into one of his eyes. He quickly turns around, one hand still in his hair, and squints past the water droplets in his eyelashes to see Grayson climbing in with him, and a strangled whimper finds its way out of his mouth as he whirls back around and ducks his head under the water to rinse the shampoo out of his hair as quickly as possible.

Grayson chuckles behind him and steps closer until Damian can feel the heat of his chest at his back. “Getting all shy on me now?” Grayson asks, voice a low, amused murmur as his hands circle around Damian’s hips, fingers fitting perfectly over the bruises he’d left there earlier, and Damian fights the way he wants to simultaneously melt into Grayson’s touch and push him away, screaming and crying, instead shuddering as Grayson’s lips brush against his ear, hips pushing forward into Damian’s.

Damian forces back an instinctive whine when he feels Grayson, hot and hard against his lower back, and leans forward a little so that his forehead is pressed to the wall, screwing his eyes shut against the tears threatening to spill down his face again. Grayson’s mouth presses to the back of his neck as he nudges Damian’s legs further apart with one of his feet, and a sob gets caught in Damian’s throat when Grayson’s teeth graze over his skin as his hand finds its way between Damian’s thighs with ease.

In a last-ditch effort to avoid what is clearly becoming inevitable, Damian twists to look up at Grayson over his shoulder, wet hair hanging in front of his eyes and partially obscuring his vision. “You – we can’t do this _here_ ,” he barely manages to get out, gritting his teeth against a moan when Grayson sinks two fingers inside him, an embarrassed flush rising to his face at how _easy_ it was, how _wet_ he must still be from Grayson previously having his way with Damian.

“Oh?” Grayson hums, completely unbothered by Damian’s desperation. “Why’s that? It’s not like we haven’t done it before,” he says, nosing at Damian’s hair, making him hiss as his thumb moves to rub at Damian’s overly sensitive clit.

Damian starts to hyperventilate, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to talk his way out of it. “I – Grayson, _please_ ,” he practically begs, and then he remembers that they aren’t alone. That they have company. “Drake, he’s only a few showers away. He’ll hear.”

But Grayson just chuckles and brings up a hand to Damian’s face, thumbing at the corner of his mouth. “I guess you’re just going to have to try and keep your voice down then. Or don’t. It doesn’t bother me if he hears me making you feel good,” Grayson says, and Damian can hear the impish grin in his voice as he traces a thumb over Damian’s bottom lip. And then Damian’s being turned around to face him, strong hands lifting him until he’s pressed against the wall, legs automatically wrapping around Grayson’s waist.

“No, _wait_ ,” Damian tries one last time, voice coming out as a helpless whimper, but he’s cut off by the sound of himself crying out as Grayson presses into him with a low groan, barely muffled by the sound of the water hitting the floor. He digs his nails into Grayson’s back, unable to tell the difference between the shower’s water and his own tears as Grayson pants into his neck, mouth hot on his skin as he sucks even more bruises into Damian’s throat.

Grayson lets out a muffled curse into his skin, hooking his arms around Damian’s lower back to lift him higher, fingers flexing on his hips. And then he’s peeling himself away from Damian’s neck and looking at him with dark eyes, and Damian has to close his own, tilting his head back against the wall as Grayson slowly starts to thrust his hips upwards, grinding more of his cock into Damian with each smooth movement.

Damian purses his lips to stop them from wobbling as more tears slip out from behind his closed eyes, then opens them to stare blankly into the distance over Grayson’s shoulder, catching sight of his reflection in one of the mirrors. He looks like a ghost of himself. Damian’s about to look away, to close his eyes so that he doesn’t have to _watch_ himself being violated as well as _feel_ it, but then he sees something in the mirror that makes him hesitate.

It’s small, and probably at a distance from the mirror, but it moves, and then Damian’s eyes are widening in _horror_ and his face is heating up as he locks eyes with a red-faced Drake, who stares right back at him with huge eyes. He feels sick to his stomach, scrabbling at Grayson’s shoulders in an attempt to lower himself so that he can at least feel ashamed in private, but Grayson must mistake his intentions, because he just chuckles and lifts Damian up even higher, putting him in plain sight as he thrusts harder into him.

Damian whimpers and turns his face away, his whole body sagging in defeat, and Grayson has to hold onto him even tighter as he lifts his own face up and tilts Damian’s chin down to kiss him. Damian is almost grateful that Grayson’s mouth on his muffles the pathetic, desperate sounds he makes as Grayson thrusts into him fast enough that it hurts, the heel of his palm grinding against Damian’s clit as he drags his teeth over the swell of Damian’s bottom lip.

Damian has to fight his own mind to stop himself from wondering what Drake’s expression must be _now_ , and yet, that seems to be what sets him off, and he’s swollen enough that he can _feel_ himself pulsing around Grayson’s cock, sobbing into his mouth as Grayson’s hips jerk and he makes a surprised sound as he follows suit after a few more thrusts, come spilling deep into Damian’s cunt and dripping down his thighs.

When Damian finally manages to open his eyes, tears clinging to his wet lashes, Drake is nowhere to be seen, and instead, he finds himself whimpering softly as he’s slowly lowered to the ground, trembling legs barely keeping him upright. Grayson’s hand cups his jaw, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone as he leans in to pepper kisses all over Damian’s face and tells him how good he was, and Damian holds back a gag, urges himself not to throw up at how _dirty_ he feels again.

But he’s tired. Tired of fighting back, tired of ignoring Grayson and trying to avoid him at every step, tired of feeling so touch-starved after going a mere eleven days without being held or hugged or kissed in the same way he usually is when he’s around Grayson. He’s grown too used to it, too dependent on it, and it’s ruined him.

He can’t say that he _lets_ Grayson touch him, but Damian certainly doesn’t fight back or say no as Grayson cleans him up again and dresses him, nor does he try to make an escape as Grayson throws an arm over his shoulder to lead him out of the showers and into the cave, where Father is still sat in front of the computer screens, not looking like he’s moved an inch since they left.

Drake has apparently vanished, probably _disgusted_ by what he saw in the showers, but Damian doesn’t want to feel sick again so he focuses instead on how betrayed he feels by his father. Damian steps forward to speak to him like he had intended to before going to shower, but the hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks, making him flinch back into Grayson’s arms, even though Damian has managed to convince himself that that’s the last place he wants to be.

Damian feels like he has ants crawling all over him, itchy and sore and just _exhausted_ from having to deal with it as Grayson gently turns him away from his father with the poor excuse of letting him catch up on sleep, and lets Grayson escort him up the stairs and into the manor, but he remains silent all the way to Grayson’s bedroom, where he climbs into the bed without a word and lets Grayson curl an arm around him. He doesn’t even realise that the shirt he’s wearing isn’t his own until he tries to curl up into a ball and it gets tangled up around his knees, too big for him.

Damian looks down at it, numb as he realises that it’s Grayson’s shirt, and just focuses on breathing instead of how sore and dirty he feels, instead of how much he hates that every mark Grayson has left on his body _aches_ with the reminder of him, even though he’s right there with Damian, nuzzling into the back of his neck and hooking their ankles together.

And then Grayson whispers a soft _I love you_ , disturbing the momentary silence Damian had been lying in. Damian _hates_ him. Damian hates _himself_. But most of all, Damian hates that he _isn’t_ lying when he reluctantly says it back to Grayson. This time, the tears fall in silence, leaving Damian’s pillow damp as he stares blankly at Grayson’s window, wondering how he made the foolish mistake of putting his trust in someone who was only ever going to use him.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!! i'll try and get the next fic out a little sooner than i did with this one, but i make no promises......


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